


Losing direction, losing faith

by impalabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, I wanted to write something that showed how complex and conflicted Cas is, M/M, so this happened, the title is from 'Feeling a Moment' by Feeder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalabro/pseuds/impalabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're so many things at once but above all, you're Dean's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing direction, losing faith

You’re so many things at once.

You’re the controlling little voice inside your head that whispers orders from Naomi, the only being who has commanded you since your Father strung you up on a holy leash. You sit cross-legged on the fence between your sanity and what lies beyond. You’re the chain around your own neck that keeps you locked up and obedient because if Naomi doesn’t keep you in check, if she doesn’t give you a purpose, you don’t know how you would stop yourself from hurting someone else.

You’re a weakening beacon of love and heart, supporting the tremendous weight of Dean’s happiness on your limbs. You know that one day you’re bound to let him slip away and when that day comes, your legs will buckle from underneath you and the last reserves of your humanity will desert you. You guard him with everything because you’ve stupidly stored all your faith in him. 

You’re the fallen soldier who believed in a blind lie, and needed the Apocalypse to tell you otherwise. Creed is flawed in a world where your Father walks on Earth, but because the tiny light of hope in you still wants a way out, you bury yourself in a lost prayer for rescue.

You’re the empty vessel of regret and doubt. You’re the spiralling path in your head that takes you through rooms filled with pain, loss, and redemption; angels, archangels, demons and humans. You’re the hollow memory of a father and a husband, so far away from the divinity you promised Jimmy Novak when you invaded his life. 

So you don’t seem to know what you’re doing when you teleport to Sam and Dean’s motel room at three o’clock in the morning, clutching an angel blade that’s caked in blood up to the hilt, and you barely listen as they prise it from your hands. You notice Dean’s face for the first time, and it’s groggy and scared but it’s alive, definitely alive, and so much relief falls on you that you moan and cry out and grab at his collar and his cheek, your arms draping over his shoulders.

You manage to choke out that he’s real and it’s without a doubt him and Naomi isn’t forcing you to kill him anymore, and Dean looks angrier than he’s ever been. Your shaking and slurring subsides it though, and you end up in a tight hug where Dean pulls your head under his chin to rest on his neck.

“You okay, Cas?” You hear Sam say. Your head wants to stay where it is though, and you can’t imagine how you’d sound if you tried to answer in the affirmative, all weepy and tired, so Dean answers for you.

“He’ll be fine,” and his breath giggles across your hair. He is the shoulder you need when you’re weak and broken, and he knows because he’s been there himself—no, he’s still there even now. You can feel the strong, steady beat of his lifeblood, all 6 litres of it, but it comes mingled with fear and loss and desperation. You can’t escape the blame for Dean’s fall, even though he doesn’t hold it against you for a second. 

You hear yourself stutter an apology into his shirt but he won’t let you hurt anymore and strokes your head like you belong to him, and you realise it’s the first time anyone has ever touched you like this. It’s so warm. It pokes at the part of your soul that has been craving acceptance since your Father turned his back on you. Now Dean has filled it with his love. 

You think of the only response it seems right to give, “I need you,” and Dean breathes out slowly. You can’t see but you know his eyes are closed. 

You’re an angel destined for the furnace, and you wish nothing more but to be able to sleep it away, with Dean’s arms guiding you to salvation.


End file.
